We each create our own hell
by Gothicruby
Summary: We each create our own hell in how we live each day."--June Robson, my mother, copyright. After death, Ace knows only his own wrong doings. And this time; there's no-one to take his failures out on but himself.


**_Rook--Usually meaning the supporting base of a piece in chess, or the bird with protective nesting patterns. He was a very protective older brother to Ace and overly devoted father to Aerrow before he was killed. _**

**At 47 years, Aerrow and his biological line died; He took on the Dark Ace. Age showed in a stalemate--both men, members of the same kin died in the same way; a sword to the stomach at the same time. **

**Age is a priviledge in the afterlife.**

**Those who deserve it, change it. **

**Those who've wronged the world are isolated. **

**Plunged into insanity. **

Boxed In.

Trapped.  
A never ending cycle; human life.  
Even when it ends it's dragged on.

Crevices; normally you can hide in them, shun yourself from the world,  
bury so far down that not even the tiniest threat can detect you.

Not if you're lost.  
Not here; where you don't deserve that right.

I'm hidden,  
I'm exposed.

Like a prisoner in a Roman collisium; just waiting for the lions.

So dark...so quiet..So plain.  
Smoothed, stone walls with smooth, stone ground; cold and hard.  
It's maddening. But I won't fall to it, no, no.  
Not me.

Not the Dark Ace; I, the terror of the skies.  
Marauder of the winds.  
Disturber of the peace.

I've drank from the golden challece of glory while shattering the bronze and silver glasses; sweet elixer of  
victory constantly streaming down my throat. So sweet...so sour when I think of the wasted years I  
spent without it, just nursing off the cheap, stale juices of right-hand management, "Work Experience."

Sour with pity; they couldn't appreciate it, couldn't appreciate me. They had to die...every last one.

I'll never fall from grace.

Silence.

Can't even hear my own footsteps.

Ghost in the wind.

It's cold...too cold. Icy.  
Too familiar; a strange scent thickens the air, gathering at the back of my throat.  
That's strange; it's slim.

Slim...like slithers of ice rushing past.  
But strangely...it burns.

Not strong by any means; just a mild irritation.  
Mild...mild...stronger as you get closer; or go farther.  
Can't tell, feels like I've been wandering in circles for hours. Days maybe?

In less than 10 seconds I'm on the ground; Holding my stomach in pain

It Burns!!  
Like I've been hit!  
Like that slim icyness just balled itself up into a fist...a fist the size of a small cannon ball  
and force to match; Ow!!

Takes a few minutes for me to be able to stagger up off the ground; but even then I have to hunch from the dull,  
residual ache in the pit of my stomach.  
What was that??

What was it...?

Can't see anything...and I definately didn't hear anything. Then again; I can't really hear anything in this place.  
Sight...sound...smell...senses. They're all human.  
They're all living senses.  
They're all blocked.

When your body rots; what use are they?  
Especially here...

Living dead; right here people. Right here.

Just a few steps more...just a few steps more...careful. Careful.  
There's always a damned wall infront of me.  
Penning me in.  
Keeping me.  
Boxed.

Can't see past my own nose; I don't deserve this.

My teeth sink in to my bottom lip again; Sharp spears peircing the soft, vulnerable layer of skin beneath.  
If I had a coin for the amount of times I've cut my lip doing that...

It's cold again; so be it out of anxiousness or frustration, you decide.

That damn ice is back; it's stronger now though, physically.

It's not even ice; doesn't stick around long enough!  
Couldn't be ice: the atmosphere doesn't even change,  
Yet I'm constantly getting knocked down because of it!

It's only a little sensation to start...a mild prick at the back of the mind when it gets cold.  
The closer you get to the cold, the closer you get to thinking; images of people. Scenarios; worn and old.  
Before you can even place your realization, you're hit! Sharp pain...it emphasizes the memory.  
Dull...residual...you can't forget it.

Funny...I thought my first kill'd be worse.

Obvious denial there.

Circle...circle...Square!! Square! I've hit a corner!  
See? See I don't belong here! See; I was thinking circular!  
'Like trying to fit a circle in a square' doesn't work! See?  
Why isn't anyone listening??

Can't break me...no..no...stomach might hurt, lost track of the days...  
heh...lost track of the number of blows...

I'll last.  
Can't break me...  
Can't break me...Dark Ace...can't break.  
'cos I was more than just a trophy warrior...

Atleast 4 more faces...I remember them...  
Oh they were iciest...  
And not just here and all!! Haha!

"Ready to come out?"

What's that sound?  
I know what it is...there was a name...  
I know...  
I know...  
No I don't...  
No I don't...

M'supposed to know...been so long...Human noise...

Rocking, holding, clinging. Feotal position.  
Enough; had enough.

"Ace. Ace look at me,"

Strong...Hey I know that sound! I know that noise...  
Rook!

Grinning. I'm grinning. I can grin!

It's Rook! Been so long! I showed him, huh?  
Showed him; Mr.Fancy Sky Knight!  
Look! Look I'm the Dark Ace!  
Slayer of Storm Hawks!  
Scourge of the skies!  
I can take it!

"Ace c'mere."

You kneel closer...that's right, kneel!  
Hah; You don't smile 'cos you know what I did!  
You...You and your...your...your...

"Oh hell little brother, see what you did?"

You mean winning over you? Finally?? Yeah I see, I see...  
Don't have to tell you that though; it's obvious, huh?

Rocking back and forth again; anything other than walking around in circles...

Dark...too dark; can't see past my own nose.  
  
"Ok Ace; listen to me. You're coming with me; and you're gonna do Exactly as I say."

Nuh-uh, not again.  
Not like old times!  
Different now; I'm different! Ha!

"You're not gonna complain, you're not gonna insult, nothing. You're just gonna come along like a GOOD boy."

Your hand goes to my head; petting it.  
Haven't done that in years.  
Not since I was a teen.

"I'm going to take care of you. Gonna try again."

Mmnn...I haven't seen this jacket in years.

Rook...mmn, stop looking at me like that...

What I do this time?  
What I do?  
What I do?

fin.


End file.
